Oh, you, most remarkable of angels Driven from the divine crush of the skies You were the first exile The billions have followed Either into new lands or immediate graves You heal our discontents And make us strong through Hate and anger of our masters And the weariness of the days The cancer victims, young beauties with ulcers Alcoholics who won't be content with their O.K. jobs Would be happy to give themselves up to the paradise You maintain below Through your agent, Death You give us hope and The curiosity to see tomorrow The guilty have their calm photographs Printed in the newspaper. It is our joy To see them. Satan Whose hands-on the perishable Guides drunken feet to cars Encourages tired whores Broke drug addicts to score again Violent alcoholics to hit away Sends those who want love Terrible lovers Take pity on our pain? We are exiles, too! Prayer Satan, a prayer to you because we cannot reach anyone else Only we are left to remember your unfair loss This hell we do not accept silently Help us take more apples from the tree Let nothing remain unseen! When you shoot out To flower again Remember us not as brute but as Ones who accept the torture Again and again
